Darryl continues to deliver in the recovery environment that has become his life, at least temporarily anyway. It is with pride and a sense of relief that I see the therapists and specialists at this facility shake their heads with even helpings of admiration and astonishment as he surpasses their expectations each and every day. It is a gratifying experience for all concerned to see this strapping young man making his way back, grabbing handfuls of the rope that he clung to in survival that now remains as a link to his former self. Like a mountain climber who had fallen down the face of a cliff, he raises himself back one hand over another, one exhausting metre at a time.
This week has seen a daily haul of milestones yet again. For the first time he was hoisted onto an exercycle and rode for five minutes, the last 60 seconds of which was nothing short of outstanding. His legs drove up and down on the peddles with real determination and as the final second ticked over tears of relief and no doubt heartache ran down his cheeks. The physio promptly rubbed his back and professed that he was progressing through her programme so quickly she was running out of activities for him.
Following the bike ride Darryl had an excellent walk across and the gym and back, something that is improving every time we do it. For the first time on Friday Darryl actually walked without the sling and hoist on as back up. He had a physio on either side helping to give him balance and talk him through the motions he needed to coordinate, while I was at ground level assisting movement in his right leg, which is improving but still not moving as freely as the left. Another major milestone out of the way.
Over the week he has improved markedly at holding a good sitting position and pushing up from this to a stand. He also seems to be finding his balance far more and distributing his weight more evenly across both legs. All these things which we all take for granted are having to be re-learnt. As each physical milestone is reached it can effectively be ticked off and then built on. Once he can do it, even if only poorly in the beginning, it demonstrates that the pathways exist and the improvement has the seeds from which to grow.
I often think of this process as comparable to a computer that has crashed and most of the files lost, but still stored on the hard drive. And just as you would painstakingly recover lost files from a hard drive and restore them to normal operating systems, so too does Darryl recover the connections between his brain and the sea of nerve pathways that control his body functions, movement and coordination. In this sense as each new file is found, the chance of a full and complete restore beckons.
Darryl’s eating has also turned a few heads having progressed within two weeks from nothing, to several large servings of each meal. He is certainly making up for lost time there and on Friday, his feeding peg now entirely redundant, was removed from his stomach. So, as with the trachie all that remains to remind us of this event is a small scar (notwithstanding the emotional scars that will not so easily be consigned to passing humour)
Darryl’s talking is improving each day and he has had a series of cognitive tests to ascertain the workings of executive function of the brain and his comprehension. He has shown remarkable function in this area and even anticipates some of the tests giving answers before the question has even finished. He has difficulty reading, not because he can’t read, but because his eyes are still recovering from damage to the cranial nerves (the 3rd and 4th nerves which control eye opening and movement). He can write quite well, albeit with his left hand at the moment, but he knows what goes where and comprehends perfectly normally. In all it demonstrates that the executive function in his brain is in tact and bodes well for a very good recovery.
One of the real challenges this week has been trying to help Darryl comprehend the world he is now awakening to as he traverses the gap between the foggy existence of the past 11 weeks and sharper focus of ‘the now’. As I mentioned last week he is shifting out of the state of post traumatic amnesia and the reality of the situation is becoming clearer. He has stopped asking repeatedly what happened to him and seems to accept that it was due to playing rugby but struggles with the idea that he can’t remember it or the circumstances around it. Possibly because this makes it seem even less real than the foreign environment he has woken to, or possibly because buried deep in his subconscious is the memory of the conversation he and I had the weekend before this about the risks (as I saw them) of him playing and what could potentially happen.
The reality of his injury has come into clearer focus however as for the first time earlier this week, out of nowhere he said “Dad, I’m sorry I played rugby”. At which stage we both dissolved into tears, made less painful by a hug we embraced in, almost with relief.
I say this because in the first few days of this nightmare as Darryl lay fighting for his life, I would have given anything to get to a point where I could simply tell Darryl what I now had the chance to say. I told Darryl, that he didn’t need to be sorry, there was nothing to feel sorry for. He was living life as he believed it was there to be lived and I understood why he played (despite my instinct as a parent screaming NO at the thought of it).
I explained to him that life is defined by its highs and lows and indeed it is not what happens in your life that is of real consequence so much as the way you deal with it. So it is that character is chiselled from the rocks of adversity that fall like a landslide across the journey of life. It may sound cliche but life is in my view 10 percent what happens to you and 90 percent what you do about it.
Darryl, I am so relieved that I have been able to have that conversation with you. So relieved I was able to just say “it’s OK”. It has been a painful burden for me, that the talk we had a week before this happened was near as can be to a script for what has actually happened. And knowing you as I do, I know you would be hurting also, that what you truly believed wouldn’t happen, had. I will never forget first seeing you in critical care, your painfully swollen head and trembling post operative body fighting for each heart beat. I will never forget the total desperation I felt as my world collapsed inward on me and all that I thought was important dissolved like ice in a warm water. I will never forget that all I wanted was the opportunity to say “it’s OK Darryl, it’s OK, don’t worry about it”.
I am just so glad I have now had that chance. I am just so glad that the any sadness and remorse you may have shouldered through this horror, can be put to rest. Some day, who knows, it could be that this hand that fate has dealt will show itself to have some higher or greater purpose. It has definitely made me a better father and it will no doubt make you a better one some day too.
I know there is a long way to go Darryl, but you are coming back, all the way – no question. There is nothing to apologise for, there is no need to look back, life is what lays ahead of you, made better by what you have overcome along the way. There are few ordeals that could be more challenging than that which you are overcoming now, but just as my instinct screamed that this would happen, so too does it tell me that you will recover to a full and outstanding life.
I am proud of you Darryl, because just as you said at the gym the other day. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going”. And you are going mate, you are going bloody well.
Dad.
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